


Third Option's The Charm

by PrinceRoan



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bottom Daryl, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Come Swallowing, Grinding, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, One Shot, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:51:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6224689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceRoan/pseuds/PrinceRoan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl has to stay behind. Judith is fussy. Jesus helps out...with more than just one thing...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Third Option's The Charm

"Rick, I'm fine," Daryl protested, shrugging on his leather jacket without wincing at the pain that shot up his right arm. He'd fought and killed nearly a hundred walkers (including some humans who wanted to eat him just at badly) without dying or being bit, yet stalking a squirrel, tripping over a tree root and barreling down a hill into a ditch had him out of the game for two weeks? After two days in bed he was up and walking and after five he was patrolling the gate even though Denise kept showing up and calling him in for check ups. Goddamn, as though it were the first time he'd dislocated a shoulder. Daryl swore she was just getting bored and needed someone to poke and prod to keep up appearances. 

Rick eyed him dubiously before throwing a look over at Denise, who was gently squeezing Tara's hand before the latter ducked into a car. The doctor glanced at Daryl then back at Rick and shook her head. Rick smiled apologetically. "Not this time, I need you stay here," he said, thinking of what he could task Daryl with so that the guy wouldn't sulk all day, "I need you at one hundred percent."

Daryl clicked his tongue. "I  _am_ at one hundred percent," he returned gruffly. His next words caught in his throat as a firebolt of pain lit his arm; he winced and grabbed his shoulder with a hiss. At his side, the asshole with the beanie Rick had decided to spare was feigning surprise.

"Oh, hey, sorry," Jesus offered quickly, looking down at Daryl's arm, "I forgot. My bad." 

Rick wrangled the amused smile off his face and shrugged at Daryl before getting into the car. Carol gently patted his uninjured shoulder as she passed and climbed into the backseat next to Carl and Glenn. Michonne had already been in the car and merely offered a two fingered wave as they drove off, followed by Tara, Rosita and two others in another vehicle.

Daryl watched the two vehicles drive down the road bitterly until the gates slid closed.

He turned with a dark look to the man next to him and clenched his jaw to keep from speaking. The power behind the "friendly pat" Jesus had bestowed on his shoulder felt more like a perfectly aimed punch.

_Fuck him and his fucking karate knowing ass._

"Asshole," he breathed as he let go of his arm and attempted to give it a slow roll, but even that made his muscles scream. Daryl thought that when it healed he'd use this arm, and this arm only, to strangle Jesus with. The bright, blue-grey eyes fixed on him glimmered strangely in the light, but Daryl elected to ignore the gaze and accompanying calm smile. It looked as though Jesus could hear his thoughts and found them, if anything, amusing. "Shoulda left you in the tree," Daryl muttered as he walked away. 

Denise had made sure that nearly all the work being done in Alexandria was off limits to him for at least another week, which left Daryl feeling useless and tired of walking around, trying to find something do, so he planted himself on the porch of Rick's house with a tepid beer and a random book he'd taken from a small shelf in the living room. Doing nothing was unsettling, especially after the consistent state of affairs he'd grown accustomed to. _Running, hiding, killing, surviving._ The constant state of alertness in his gut was a switch that was always on. Thick, steel reinforced walls did nothing to abate that.

He would have been in the garage working on his bike, but he needed to scavenge some parts first, which was off limits to him as everything else until Denise cleared him, whittling down his options to resting. He guzzled down two beers and left the book on the ledge unopened, enjoying the light buzz hitting him. The short-lived moment of peace left him unprepared for the option that presented itself before him just then.

"Hey!"

Daryl opened one eye and grunted as Maggie walked over to him, a babbling Judith sitting in her arms. She looked relieved to see him and shot him a quick smile before holding out Rick's daughter. He collected the infant in his lap and raised a brow.

"Glad I found you!" Maggie exclaimed, breathless, "I need you to look after her for a few hours, alright? I've gotta go to a meeting, we're planning which fields to plow for planting and I have the plans. Judith would be bored to pieces, so I'm going to leave her with you, alright? I'll pick her up later." 

Maggie had a way of issuing orders that masqueraded as willingly done favours, sweetly and impossibly difficult to avoid. Daryl looked into Judith's little face and wiped the spit from the corner of her mouth. "Yeah," he said, "sure." 

Maggie thanked him with a smile. "She's about due for a feeding, I'm sure Rick's got a few jars of the baby food left in there." She pressed a quick kiss to the top of Judith's head and hastened back down the street.

Daryl hadn't taken care of little ass kicker since he'd named her in the prison and she'd grown a hell of a lot since then. She looked up at him with wide eyes that made him wonder if there wasn't some hint of recognition in there. Probably not. Hell, he wouldn't have recognized her if not for the echoes of Lori in her face.

He stood and cradled her in his good arm as he walked inside, setting her down on the kitchen island before proceeding to search the cabinets for those jars of baby food he'd seen Michonne feeding Judith with. Some pureed crap that came in awful colours. Each drawer he worked over turned out nothing, which began to make him nervous because he could hear the distinct sound of a sniffle behind him. He found a plush toy in a drawer next to the cutlery and didn't have time to think on its placement before he quickly plopped it into Judith's little fingers. As she was momentarily taken with the soft figure, Daryl took the opportunity to search the pantry."The hell," he growled, quickening his search of the pantry, which had jars of pickles, beets and even artichokes but not one thing that looked a jar of baby food. "Shit."

When he stepped out of the pantry and turned, he froze. Judith was looking up at him with watery eyes, the toy forgotten at her side and before he could even wince, her little lungs filled up with air and let out the loudest, shrillest wail he'd ever heard. "Oh, no, no, come on," he pleaded as he stepped over, but she only redoubled her efforts at his proximity with an amazing capability to suck in air and scream at the same time. All he could do was pick her up and bounce her against him, hoping to calm her down. "Shit," he said again, then caught himself on the cuss and apologized. The last thing he needed was her learning her first words from him.

The town pantry probably had baby food or at least something he could feed her, Daryl thought, though walking through the town with a crying child was the last thing he wanted to do. Carol would know how to calm her down, he knew, but he couldn't imagine what she would do, only what Maggie's face would look like when someone asked her why Judith was screeching like hell. Hell, he thought, hurrying her to the town pantry, screeching or not was better than nothing. Daryl hardly made it two steps to the front door (something he'd have a hard time trying to label much later as a good or bad thing). 

"You know you can hear her crying two streets down, right?"

Daryl spun in place and let slip at least three curses which if Judith ever repeated would be at once impressive and horrifying. He would have said something more had Jesus not extended his hand and offered Daryl, with a slight tilt of his brow and with that same calm smile, a jar of orange baby food. It looked like peace offering, the way Jesus held it out to him, but who could say if he hadn't stolen it first. Daryl wouldn't put it past him.

Daryl jerked his head for it to be opened and grabbed a small spoon from one of the drawers. As though the screeching weren't bad enough, when he set Judith down and offered her a spoonful of the pureed whatever-the-hell-orange-crap it was, she pushed her little fingers into his face and kept crying. Now, he was at a loss. Daryl huffed and stepped back. "Eat," he mumbled and tried again, "ain't you hungry?" Judith spurned him again, her plump cheeks red and wet with tears. 

Jesus stifled a chuckle. "May I?" he asked in a polite tone. 

Daryl made a vague "have at it" gesture, for lack of a better option, though he kept a close eye on the man's every movement. He was still nursing his suspicions over how Jesus even came by the one thing he needed at the perfect moment. Silence swallowed his thoughts when Jesus picked Judith up.

To his amazement, which he rarely felt and then only perhaps in dire situations - which applied just now - he watched Jesus sweep Judith into his arms and whisper in her ear, bouncing her gently, wiping the tears from her face with care until she slowly stopped her sobbing. He took small steps around the kitchen as though enacting a slow dance with her, speaking softly as she settled down. Judith reached up and entangled her fingers into Jesus' hair, looking up at him with wonder. Though he was a stranger he didn't seem to scare her.

Daryl watched them shift around the room in soft turns and only glimpsed the entirety of Jesus' face when he turned to the left near him, taking another small step in his dance, and the way the man was smiling made him avert his gaze. The calm smile that was usually upon his face, that delicate something that seemed to imply he knew something you didn't, but might soon know, was different. The way Jesus was smiling at Judith was small and warm, somehow inviting attention to his eyes, which were big and bright and, and -  _shit -_ looking directly at Daryl as though catching him on the tail end of his thoughts.

"What?" Daryl barked, shifting from one foot to the other, spoon gripped tight enough between his fingers to bend.

Jesus raised a brow slowly, like just about everything he did unless it was beating the shit out of Rick or running away from Daryl, and pointedly looked at the jar of baby food on the island. "I think she'd like to eat something now," he suggested, stepping over to Daryl and the counter, "though she seems to like my hair, so I can't sit her down."

Daryl narrowed his eyes, but picked up the jar. Jesus turned so that Judith faced him, which brought their heads close together as Daryl brought the spoon to her lips, though the proximity went unnoticed as Judith happily accepted the offer. Daryl kept the orange slop coming as long as she wanted it. He wiped the puree from the sides of her mouth and shook his head. "How the hell did you get in here, anyway?"

"Oh, the door was open," Jesus replied breezily, anticipating the question, "and I heard the crying, thought you might need help."

Scoffing, Daryl threw a dubious glance to his side, which he regretted instantly because it made him painfully aware of the few inches between him and Jesus. He focused on Judith instead, though he couldn't quite ignore the smell of Jesus' leather jacket. "What kind of dumbass name is 'Jesus'?" 

"Not the religious type?" Jesus countered, playful notes accentuating his usual smooth tone. 

Daryl shook his head and shrugged. "Nah, but I know enough to know you don't even look like the guy." 

Jesus chuckled. "Thought maybe those angel wings were more than just decoration," he said, reaching up to catch some pureed carrot from Judith's lip. "And really, you don't think so? I've gotten used to it, though, if you want, you can call me Paul."

"I kinda like calling you asshole," Daryl returned, only half-joking as he fed Judith the last few spoons of baby food, though he couldn't help feeling at ease with the banter. He risked a glance to his side and was thankful Jesus chose that moment to look down at Judith. Whoever this guy was, he felt genuine, which was unsettling; more than that, it was dangerous, these were the types of people you dropped your guard around, and becoming careless around careful people could cost more than bargained for. Daryl wouldn't make that mistake. Even if...

"Or 'prick'?" Jesus quipped. 

Daryl snorted and set the jar on the counter. "You heard that?" Judith let go of Jesus' hair and reached out for him, so he propped her up on his side and wet a towel to clean her mouth with. He watched Jesus throw away the empty jar and casually wash the spoon as though he'd lived there his whole life, wiping down the counter with the towel he took from Daryl's hands. It occurred to him that the current scene was overly domestic and he backed away a few steps. How did they go from punching each other to cuddling up to feed a baby together? And what the fuck was with this guy and looking at Daryl like he _knew_ something.  "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"No, not really," Jesus replied with a shrug, "not until Rick gets back, anyway. We're both a little stranded, it seems."

Daryl frowned at the easy going tone. "Uhuh, well, you can't stay here." He meant for Jesus to leave, but Judith decided at that moment to desire a change of scenery and pushed at Daryl's chest, reaching out for Jesus (and his hair). It annoyed Daryl that the man looked to him for approval before making any move to oblige her demands and he begrudgingly assented with a curt nod. Yeah, things were better when he could punch him in the face and not feel bad about it, but this overly polite, helpful, baby loving person before him was making him feel like a dick. He released Judith to Jesus' care and balked when Jesus casually walked by him, cooing in a baby-voice all the way to the front door. 

"You seem uncomfortable around me," Jesus commented as Daryl stepped out onto the porch, swishing his hair from side to side so that it brushed against Judith's fingers. She giggled and grabbed at the strands. "I wonder why."

"The hell are you talking about," Daryl grumbled, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. The way Jesus spoke layered judgments, questions, and suggestions into one unreadable sentence, and Daryl had never been good at solving puzzles. He rolled his tongue in his mouth, itching to tell the guy to fuck off. "All I got to know is not to trust you and kill you if you try anythin'."

Jesus shook his head. "No, you're a good judge of character," he said dismissively, ignoring Daryl's furrowed brows, "which means you know you can trust me. Plus, you could have killed me already, but you didn't."

"Yah, only thanks to Rick."

Jesus hummed and allowed Judith to pull the beanie off his head. He raked his fingers through his hair, pulling one side back before turning his head up to look at Daryl. "Just like that," he flicked his gaze between Daryl's crossed arms and his narrowed eyes, "uncomfortable."

Daryl grimaced.

Judith crawled off Jesus' lap, playing with his beanie and he pulled her away from the edge of the steps before standing and stepping over to Daryl. "How's the arm?" 

"Fi-" Daryl tensed as Jesus' hand came up and lightly brushed his bicep. They were close enough that he could smell the leather of Jesus' jacket, yet it didn't feel like the guy was invading his space. Stranger than that, Daryl felt calm, even though the light touch on his skin was leaving fires in its wake. He was glad that the sky was darkening. "What are you doin'?"

Jesus looked up and smiled, taking a polite step back. "Checking on your wellbeing?" 

Daryl glanced down at Jesus' lips, something that did not go unnoticed, because the smile upon them widened. He flicked his gaze back up, narrowing his eyes. Jesus raised a brow at him and turned away, kneeling back down to play with Judith. Daryl watched him, thinking, a lingering tingle from Jesus' touch on his skin bringing him to slowly realize a third option was presenting itself. He pushed himself off the door frame and returned to the kitchen, grabbing two beers. He offered one to Jesus when he stepped back out and though a moment of hesitation preceded Jesus' acceptance of the offer, his fingers ghosted over Daryl's in a deliberate caress when he took the bottle. Daryl looked away and took a deep, long swig.

By the time he finished, Jesus had only had a fourth of his beer. Maggie came by as the sun began to set and stayed a while, chatting real friendly with the guy while Daryl listened. He saw how effortlessly Jesus befriended her, how she let her guard slip within three of his damnably easy going sentences. He looked and acted harmless, not that Daryl would ever let himself believe it. She asked after Daryl briefly and he told her things had gone fine with the baby. She thanked him again and left with Judith, who only under insistence relinquished Jesus' beanie. After that, the two of them stood on the porch for a while and watched the sky change colours. When the clouds took on a purple hue against a backdrop of deepening red, Jesus turned to Daryl and gave him a long look. 

This time, Daryl had no trouble discerning the meaning behind those bright-blue eyes and returned the gaze, equally steady, though his fingers began to fidget at his side. His muscles tensed when Jesus stepped forward, but the man brushed by him and went into the house. Daryl exhaled the air that had been trapped in his lungs and looked at the sky a final time. The deep red simmered along the horizon and long, dark shadows began to fall across the porch, stretching toward the door. Daryl followed them inside.

A warm flush spread from his core when he stepped over the threshold and into the foyer. The tap was on in the kitchen, less than ten paces to his right. When he turned the corner, he saw that Jesus had taken off his jacket and was drinking a glass of water by the sink, his shirt white and loose fitting. Daryl counted the steps back between himself and the front door. _Two_ , _three_ , Jesus placed the glass on the counter and pushed it away, _four_ , the kitchen was dim lit, the sky outside a darkening blue but Jesus' eyes were as bright as ever, _five_ , _six_ , Daryl stepped forward,  _seven_ , they were nearly of a height,  _eight,_ Jesus closed his eyes. 

They breathed in.

When Jesus opened his eyes and looked into his, Daryl wavered and backed into the marble countertop of the island, pressing against it. He gripped it with both hands when Jesus came up against him, breath catching in his throat when Jesus' silvery gaze darkened as it moved down Daryl's body. At the touch of their knees, Daryl sucked in another breath. Jesus touched his wrist, right where Daryl's pulse was pounding and dragged the pads of his fingers up Daryl's arm, over the leather of his vest and across his collarbone. The brush of Jesus' fingers as the man undid the buttons of his shirt teased him down to his navel, deliberately brief, though Daryl was sure the rise and fall of his chest was enough to give him away ten times over. When Jesus put his hands on his him, Daryl's breath came stuttering out. Jesus felt his hips, his abdomen, his chest, his fuckable lips parted as his hands came up to Daryl's neck and their eyes met. Daryl thought about pulling Jesus into him, but stilled when a soft touch lightly brushed the fringe from his forehead. Jesus was damnably soft, slipping his feather-like touch down the side of his face, two fingers pausing under his chin, which Jesus pushed up so that he raised his head. 

_Fu-_

Jesus leaned in and pressed the faintest of kisses upon Daryl's lips, hardly a kiss at all though their lips had touched. Daryl felt warm breath against his skin and couldn't tell where his breath began and Jesus' ended, just that the space between their lips was hot. The two fingers under his chin slid up his jaw and were joined by the rest on the side of his face, which Jesus gently cupped, keeping the distance between their lips short. They breathed in each other's air. Daryl's eyes hooded over as another hand came to rest on the other side of his face. 

The second time Jesus kissed him was a real kiss. Daryl could feel the pressure of the other's lips, pressing, then moving against his own. His grip tightened on the marble counter, knuckle-white hold, anchoring him in place. He felt his lips part of their own accord and tilt in time with another touch of Jesus'. The hold Jesus had on his face moved to the back of his neck and into his hair. And then they were _kissing_. Slowly, at first, as Daryl adjusted, letting his breath pass between them. Jesus' fingers curled into his skin, his hair, and angled his head. Their lips met again and again, until the sounds of soft kisses turned wet and messy. Blunt nails were digging into back of his neck and the scrape of their chins meeting was loud, but the mouth pressed to his lips was hot and insistent and Daryl could only focus on the heat around and inside him.

And then they were more than kissing. 

Daryl felt a knee push his legs apart as Jesus stepped closer and powerlessly followed the pull that had him pushing off the counter and into the body sliding against his own. His bare chest against Jesus shirt wasn't enough and hardly a coherent thought formed in his head before his fingers had ripped Jesus' shirt open. The front of his jeans sliding against Jesus' thigh sent electric shocks radiating outward in his body. Jesus groaned into his lips as he deepened their kiss and Daryl felt fires sweep downward and meet the electricity below. He rolled his hips and grunted when Jesus pushed his knee up to meet him. His hands felt for Jesus' hips and he gripped them tight, pulling him into every roll of his hips. 

 _Fuck. Fuck_. 

Jesus slipped his tongue into Daryl's mouth and Daryl gave into him. He bucked against the thigh between his legs, the rough denim rubbing his cock. He didn't care how needy he looked, rutting against Jesus' thigh or how desperate the hold he had on Jesus' hips must have felt. The tongue inside his mouth was hot, their lips slick, chins red from contact, everything relentless. Daryl grunted into Jesus' mouth and all but fucked himself along the hard, warmth of his thigh. Jesus kept him backed up against the counter, straining against his thrusting, one hand still on the back of his neck, but the other on his arm. He groaned when Jesus raised his knee up underneath him, forcing him to straighten up, nearly on his tiptoes and shorten the length of his thrusts. He reached back and took hold of the counter, using it as leverage; Jesus was forcing him to grind on his thigh, like a little bitch, Daryl thought, but he was aching hard. He dropped his head back and rocked his hips. Jesus took the opportunity to kiss his neck, covering it with his warm mouth, dragging his teeth over his damp skin. The feeling of Jesus' bristly chin scratching his skin and the hardness of the thigh pushing into his cock left Daryl panting.

He didn't notice at first when Jesus began to pull away until the man slowly brought his knee down and left Daryl bucking his hips into nothing. Daryl cracked his eyes open.

Jesus met his frustrated gaze with a smirk and leaned up to kiss him. Daryl let him. He felt the hand on his arm move to his chest then slide down between them and arched into the flat of Jesus' palm when he pressed it against the bulge in his pants. Jesus cupped him in his palm and rubbed his cock through his jeans, keeping their lips pressed together. Daryl kissed him, he sucked on his bottom lip, he let their tongues touch, he let moans escape his throat. He didn't fucking care as long as Jesus kept pulling on him like that. Jesus coaxed him from the counter as he unzipped him, then shoved him back into the counter. Jesus touched him through the light material of his briefs, felt the size of him between his fingers, rubbed him until Daryl had to drop his head and pinch his eyes closed. Lips pressed against his damp forehead and then Jesus was kneeling on the ground before him, nails dragging on his skin as his jeans and briefs were pulled down. He bit his tongue when his cock sprung out of his briefs and bit back a groan when Jesus' took hold of him.

A cracked groan fell from his lips when Jesus stroked him, his hands were so fucking soft. He looked down and voiced a broken"oh god" as he watched himself slide into Jesus' open mouth, instinctively arching into the warmth. The firm grip on the base of his cock gave a squeeze, letting him know to stay put. It was fucked up to see familiar lines of calm on Jesus' face, eyes closed, breath composed, even as his tongue started to test the sensitivity of Daryl's cock.

The thin edge of the counter was imprinting a long, red line into his back but the pressure kept him from bucking his hips. Jesus moved his tongue in slow circles around the head of his cock, moving his hand up the rest of his length to spread his spit. The fingers splayed on the exposed part of his hip felt like open flame. Daryl could hear his own laboured breathing, the hitch in his throat when Jesus hollowed his cheeks and bent his head to take in more of him. It was fucking embarrassing. 

Which made the next part all the worse. Jesus sucked him without even pausing for breath until Daryl was making noises he didn't know he could make. When Jesus did break for air he released him with a wet pop and looked up, lips glistening with spit and the precum Daryl been leaking since Jesus first pressed into him The sudden pause, the way Jesus' cheeks were flushed, the way his lips had swelled was overwhelming. Jesus looked at him as though he wanted to face him with the fact that he'd been telling him to fuck off all day and was now one step away from asking to  _be_ fucked by him. The panic in his chest must have crossed his face because those wet lips curled into a knowing smirk and then parted again. 

Before Daryl could help himself, his hand was in Jesus' soft, brown hair, following the up and down motion of his head as he sucked Daryl's cock. The firm grip of Jesus' fingers turned into a hold of two, connected at the tips, which jerked him slow, but hard. Daryl could feel every swirl of Jesus' tongue, sliding up one side then lapping at the underside of his cock, but the way Jesus would let slip low grunts that curled around Daryl's cock had his heart pounding in his throat. The hold on his hip turned into a tight grip as Jesus pulled him forward, swallowing him down until the hilt.

He moaned so loudly he could feel a smile stretch the lips sliding back up his cock. It drove him right to the edge.

"I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come," he grunted, eyes shut tight, feeling his nerves crackle like static electricity. Jesus sucked the head of his cock and jerked him faster, pulling the pressure at the base of his cock up his shaft, up to where his lips were. The bobbing of Jesus' head stilled and Daryl's fingers curled into Jesus' hair when he glanced down. _Oh god, oh god._ Jesus wanted him to come inside his mouth; he could  _feel_ the way he was waiting for it. He grabbed a fistful of Jesus' hair and with a sudden shove turned them around, slamming the back of Jesus' head into the wood of the cabinet. He held him still with the hold on his long hair and with his free hand grabbed his cock, keeping himself between Jesus' lips as he stroked it. 

Bright eyes looked up at him, still on his face, and he looked back into them before flicking his gaze down at the way Jesus' mouth was closed around him. He could feel the pressure moving up his cock, slow, though the thrust of his hand was fast. The slap-slap-slap of the back of his hand hitting his skin punctuated every grunt falling from his lips as he worked it up and down. When he felt the pressure begin to flood the head of his cock he pushed the length of it into Jesus' mouth and thrust. 

"Fu-" he grunted as his body spasmed.

In the suspended moment between his release and his orgasm he looked at the way Jesus' eyes pinched and how his hands balled into fists as his mouth filled with Daryl's cum. Then his breath stopped in his throat and a shock of pleasure travelled up his core and down to his feet. He threw his head back and went rigid, his grip so tight on Jesus he could a grunt of pain below him. When a final spasm shook him, he released the air burning his lungs in a groan. 

Jesus hit his leg twice before Daryl remembered to pull himself out of his mouth. When he did, he looked down just as Jesus swallowed, cringing. The man wiped his lips and let them fall open, breathing heavily. Daryl tucked himself back into his briefs and pulled up his jeans. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and after a moments deliberation offered a hand down. Jesus considered him for a moment before gripping his fingers as Daryl pulled him up. 

"I think you can tell Denise your arm is much better," Jesus said in a low voice, reaching up gingerly to fix the strands of hair jutting out from where Daryl had been gripping him. 

They were standing nearly as close as they had been when Jesus had first leaned in to kiss him, but without any of the anticipation or lust. It let Daryl look him over with different eyes and after gulping down whatever had lodged itself in his throat, he reached up and brushed the beads of sweat from the side of Jesus' temple. Then he kissed him. As light as the first time Jesus had kissed him, but longer, pulling back only when he felt his bottom lip tremble. Then he put distance between them.

Though the kitchen had darkened considerably and the little light that flowed from the lamps underneath the cabinets was dim, Daryl could see confusion momentarily pass over Jesus' face. At his last action, he realized, not the previous....well, he didn't have an answer for either and looked away. 

"Rick is going to be back soon," Jesus said, leaning over to the other side of the island where his jacket had fallen on the ground. He shrugged it on and walked toward the hallway. "You know," Jesus started, but paused, sucking in his bottom lip pensively as he looked Daryl up and down.

Daryl glanced up just as Jesus smiled.

"You don't look so uncomfortable anymore. See you tomorrow."

The chuckle that slipped back into the kitchen from the hallway hit Daryl in the chest harder than any punch. He buttoned his jeans and flattened his fringe. Jesus was right about one thing, his arm didn't hurt so much anymore. Daryl cleared his throat, grabbed a glass of water and ambled out to the porch. He sat down on the steps and looked up at the sky. Without street lamps or the pollution from the city, the night was brilliant with stars. There was a fall chill to the air, but it felt nice against his damp skin. 

 _Tomorrow_. 

Daryl grimaced. 

Another chance for everything to fall back to running, hiding, killing, and surviving. That and....and? There wasn't supposed to be an "and". 

Daryl shook his head and downed his water. 

_Tomorrow._

"Shit."

 


End file.
